


After Escape

by Judayre



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: All cuddling all the time, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, cuddles fix everything
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-04-09
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:50:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Judayre/pseuds/Judayre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mirkwood was difficult and now everyone needs help to recover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. By the River Running

**Author's Note:**

> This does not fit with anything else I have written, but I felt I had to write it. There was too much cuddling not to.

Dwalin looked through the barrels one last time. But, after all, they were being sent down river because they were empty. There was nothing to find now that all the Dwarves were out.

So here they were, on the banks of the River Running with nothing but what they stood up in. The Elves had taken all their weapons, their armor, their supplies. They would have to stop somewhere to get more, and likely stop for longer than they would like to earn the money to get it.

They were soaking wet and had nothing to start a fire, unless Óin and Glóin were better at rubbing sticks together than Dwalin had ever had the patience to be. But at least they were free. They were out of prison, away from the leering and jeering of Elvish guards. They no longer had to listen to Thranduil and his poisonous words.

Dwalin was proud of them all. He knew himself to be loyal to a fault, the last who would ever break faith, and he had felt himself wavering at some of the things that were said to him. That even Nori, who prided himself on being loyal to no one, hadn't broken was a sign of strength unlooked for in half the company.

"Dwalin, you are disappointing your brother."

The warrior looked up from his inventory to see what Thorin was talking about, only to find his friend not even looking at him. He held Fíli and Kíli tightly to his sides and they were curled into him like puppies, fingers twined together white knuckled.

When Thorin brushed his lips to each youth's temple, Dwalin looked away to give them privacy, still not understanding how he was upsetting Balin. He saw Dori, Nori, and Ori clinging to each other in a three way embrace that would have been unthinkable at the beginning of the journey. Ori was crying and both of his brothers had pressed their foreheads to his, whispering and damp eyed themselves.

Bombur sat between Bifur and Bofur, and all three were reaching out to hold each other's hands or touch shoulders, eyes locked on family. Even Óin was checking Glóin for injuries he obviously didn't have, and Glóin let his brother do as he wished, whispering things that Dwalin couldn't hear for distance and Óin couldn't hear for deafness.

In fact, Dwalin, Balin, and Bilbo were the only ones alone. Balin was seated on a log, trembling almost imperceptibly and staring into a distance that Dwalin didn't like. Bilbo had collapsed into a wet, shivering heap on the ground. Dwalin's eye traced back through the others, and he knew what Thorin had meant.

He plucked Bilbo off the ground in passing, lifting him bodily by the back of his shirt. The Hobbit squeaked once, and looked at Dwalin in terror that didn't dissipate when the Dwarf all but threw him at his brother. Balin caught him automatically, tucking the sodden Hobbit under one arm and blinking at Dwalin, his eyes coming back from that dreadful distance.

Dwalin sat on Bilbo's other side, one brawny arm going around both of the others. Balin gave him a tired smile and leaned close, touching their foreheads together in a way that brought comfort. Dwalin nuzzled in, returning as much as he could to his brother.

For his part, Bilbo was tremblingly still for a long moment, eyes wide and breath coming short and fast. And then, with a sob, he melted against the warriors, one hand clinging to each of them. Dwalin turned his body to wrap the other arm around Bilbo, bending to touch their heads together.

"Quiet, little one," he murmured. "We're all safe. You did well."

"I didn't," the Hobbit whimpered, clinging tighter with a strength Dwalin had never expected. "We have no food, no supplies, no weapons, and no money. How are we supposed to go on? I should have done more. I should have been better. I'm no burglar!"

Dwalin quieted him, kissing the tears away as he had for Fíli and Kíli when they were younger. "You stole thirteen Dwarves from captivity. You are the best burglar there ever was. We will figure things out together now. You don't have to worry alone."

Balin leaned in closer, smiling at both of them and looking older than Dwalin could remember. Bilbo didn't seem to mind being a little squashed, snuggling closer under the pair of arms.


	2. In Laketown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dwalin tends the sick burglar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There were enough requests for a continuation that I read the Laketown chapter to see if there was one. And there was.
> 
> But see those tags? All cuddling, all the time. Please don't make me go any farther, because this one is much more canon compliant than most of my writing and I really don't want to cover the Battle of Five Armies, or even most of what comes before it.

Dwalin had been in enough cities of Men that he didn't like the welcome they had gotten in Laketown. To be sure, the house was nice. And no one could fault their hospitality in giving feasts and agreeing to provide goods. But he had seen Men like the Master before, and there would come a bill. He just hoped they could avoid it until after they had faced the dragon. Then, they would either have more than enough to pay it, or they would be dead.

Then there was the continued worry of Elves. Thranduil knew they were gone by now, and knew where they were. If it weren't for the fact that no one wanted to be alone after their dungeon time, he would have insisted on at least pairs.

And finally, the burglar was sick. He had a dreadful cold, which was making it hard for him to breathe, and the glassiness that was in his eyes spoke of a fever he wouldn't let anyone tend.

And they were all so busy that it was easy to let it slide, but after three days Dwalin was determined not to leave the house. He'd seen enough of Men and heard enough of their caterwauling for a lifetime. He scoured the house, collecting every handkerchief he could find, and brought them to Bilbo's room.

Only to find it empty.

He left the handkerchiefs and went searching. Bilbo was in the kitchen, holding a large pan. He wavered a bit on his feet, and looked at the stove with kittenish anger. Both stove and pan were too large for him, and he put up very little fight when Dwalin took the pan out of his hands and scooped him into his arms.

He took the stairs - far too high for the Hobbit to manage easily - climbed onto the tall bed, and laid his burden in the exact center. Then he piled on the blankets until only Bilbo's eyes and curly hair were visible. His dark eyes were wide and too bright, and his breathing was labored even though Dwalin had done all the carrying.

The Dwarf leaned down, testing the Hobbit's temperature by touching their foreheads together. As he had thought, too high. He shook his head, sitting back.

"What were you thinking?"

"I had to--" Bilbo's voice cut off into coughing, and he miserably turned onto his side, facing away.

"There is no 'had to,'" Dwalin insisted, lightly rubbing Bilbo's back. "Dori is seeing to our clothes, with Ori to write measurements and notes and Nori to look menacing if needed. Thorin has gotten use of a forge and is seeing to our weapons himself with the lads to help him. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur are resupplying us. And Óin is driving every healer in town crazy with his brother to translate for him. Everything is taken care of, as I told you it would be."

Bilbo peeked back at him, looking hopeful.

"Now, you take a nap and I'll bring you a glass of water for when you wake."

A small hand reached out and grasped his own as he slid toward the edge of the bed.

"Please stay," Bilbo asked, voice reedy and muffled by the blankets.

Dwalin didn't answer in words. He lay protectively close, one hand spread over the Hobbit's hip and the other gently carding through his hair. Bilbo's eyes were crinkled into a shy smile, and he snuggled back against the Dwarf and fell asleep.


End file.
